The Man Who Got Everything He Wanted
by dramaqueen6
Summary: (Willy Wonka fanfic) A few years before the movie events take place. I've finished the story. Please r&r.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I write this because E.R.M. Griffin wrote a great to chapters of a Wonka fanfic and has yet to finish it. This is my way to cope with the intense suffering. This, though, led to more suffer. Willy is hard to characterize! If you think I did something wrong, give me some pointers.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money of this. I don't own Wonka - even though I wish I did!  
  
Once upon a time there was a man that had everything except the one thing he wanted.  
  
Willy Wonka was a young man at the time, eccentric, but not as eccentric as he was when the winners of the Golden Tickets came to visit.  
  
He had just opened the chocolate factory and had employeed the entire Oompa Loompa race.  
  
The business was getting off the ground, successfully, but he still was missing one thing. He was lonely.  
  
He wasn't always a recluse. He would go out, swinging around his cane and humming happily. People would stare at the man in the purple jacket and funny hat, but he ignored it. He was accustomed to it. He'd always been different.  
  
No one really understood him, until he met her.  
  
He saw her out on a walk. She was a homeless girl curled up in a doorway, dressed in dirty, tattered rags. She had a dirty rat's nest of hair on her head, it dark, long, and uncombed. She had sad, intense purple eyes. With a drug addict's pallor, she was white as snow, except that her cheeks and nose were red from the cold. She also had full, beautiful lips, the color of blood. She was curled up and shivering, afraid and sad, like a lost baby kitten.  
  
She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life. She was eighteen or nineteen, he guessed. Not much younger than him.  
  
He felt a wave of empathy wash over him. He had to do something for her.  
  
He walked up. Their eyes met. An electric shock flowed through him.  
  
She stared up at him, her eyes big, the size of quarters. She wimpered, "Please don't hurt me, sir," she begged, in a way that made he think someone had harmed her before.  
  
He smiled slowly, trying to soothe her. "I won't hurt you," he cooed. He took his warm hands in her icecicle ones.  
  
He slipped a fifty dollar bill into her hand, along with some candy. "Oh, and if you ever need anything . . ." He gave her a card with the address to the chocolate factory.  
  
She eyed him warily. "Uh, thank you, sir."  
  
He smiled again. "You're welcome."  
  
He saw her again at night - well, actually in the morning.  
  
He woke up to a pounding on his door, at 1:30 AM.  
  
"Who could that be?" he thought, groggy and disshevled. He swallowed. He suddenly knew *exactly* who it was.  
  
He opened the door - and the homeless girl threw her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, sir!" she cried.  
  
He put his hands on her arms. "What did you do the money?" he demanded.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"*What* did you do with the money?" he asked, tense.  
  
She averted his gaze, ashamed. "Drugs."  
  
He groaned. She was beautiful, but she was also stupid.  
  
"Hey, come back here!" he heard someone scream.  
  
A tall, dirty and shaggy looking man came to the door.  
  
Willy smiled, pushing away the girl, and stepping in front of her. "How can I help you sir?" he greeted him melodically.  
  
He nodded to the girl. "You can get out of the way. She stole from me."  
  
"Stole what?"  
  
"My drugs," he said, as if she stole his wallet.  
  
"Well, why don't you call the police and report that she stole your drugs?"  
  
"Don't be stupid, bastard. This is none of your business."  
  
"The business of a man is the business of a man is the business everyone, and the business of everyone is the business of a man," he replied gleefully. "Come, take a tour of my factory."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Take a tour. I'm sure I can more than pay for what she stole."  
  
A few minutes later, the drug dealer had been sucked up the tube in the chocolate river.  
  
Willy and the girl were together in the garden of candy.  
  
"So, if you had money, why did you steal from him?" he asked.  
  
"Huh?" she mumbled, her mouth already full of candy.  
  
She was on her knees, shoving candy in her mouth like a starving girl finally getting to eat before she almost died. His eyebrows made a curve like his frown. It was probably true.  
  
She got up, the look on her face like a child being punished. She swallowed. "Well, " she began.  
  
Unconsciously, Willy wiped off some chocolate on the corner of her lips. She stopped talking.  
  
He licked the chocolate off his finger. "Go on."  
  
"Well, I already owed a lot of people, and when I finally paid it all off . . ." She shrugged. "I didn't have enough for any drugs, so I stole it."  
  
"A good decision, of course."  
  
"Hey!" she yelled. "I was desperate."  
  
He sighed, aggravated, then looked at her. One look melted all his anger away.  
  
"You can stay here," he offered.  
  
Her eyes grew big, a little shocked. "What?"  
  
"You can stay here, with me, in the factory."  
  
"But you don't even know my name."  
  
"Well, then, what is it?"  
  
"Tawny."  
  
He smiled at her name. "Well, then, Tawny. You can stay here, and I'll feed you and clothe you and give you anything you want."  
  
"Really?" she asked, a little naive and hopeful.  
  
"You just have to stay off the drugs."  
  
Her smile fell. She looked at him as if he'd said she'd have to stop breathing.  
  
"You can do it," he assured her. "And, I'll spoil you rotten with candy."  
  
A small smile tugged on her lips, that pleased him. "All right?"  
  
She let out a small, sardonic sigh. "All right."  
  
Tawny had been living with him for a week. He had stopped her from sneaking out in the middle of the night to get drugs. Whenever he caught her, they just acted like she had a case of insomnia.  
  
They were up again one night, talking, in the room full of candy. They did that almost every night, and were becoming very close.  
  
She glanced at him, sitting on the ground besider her. "Willy," she began. "Can ask you a personal question?"  
  
He turned to her. "You can ask me anything you want."  
  
"If I . . . If I told you that I had feelings for you, what would you think?"  
  
He smiled. "What kind of feelings? Angry ones? Painful ones? Nervous ones?"  
  
She scowled, frustrated. "You know what I mean."  
  
"Well, theoretically?"  
  
"Yeah, theoretically."  
  
"Theoretically, I would say that I had feelings for you, too. Theoretically, anyway."  
  
This seemed to make her happy. "Really?"  
  
He moved closer to her. "Really."  
  
There was a long, pregnant silence. They could hear the thumping of each other's hearts. Slowly, he leaned in, and kissed her.  
  
First, it was soft and gentle. He took her face in her hands. He tongue teased along her lip.  
  
Their mouths opened. He had the sudden urge to kiss her harder and faster. He wanted to hold her closer to him, to feel her warmth.  
  
*This is going really fast,* he thought. But he didn't stopping kissing.  
  
She did.  
  
She broke away from him, her face the color of strawberries.  
  
"Why did you stop?" he asked, a little breathless.  
  
"I - I'm sorry. I've gone too far with too many guys." Her eyes met his, ashamed. "I'm not a virgin."  
  
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I know that."  
  
She frowned. "It's that obvious?"  
  
"No, I can just tell." He got up. "Goodnight."  
  
"What?" she burst, incredulous.  
  
"It's eleven o'clock early in the night," he said, pulling her up. "Goodnight, sweetheart."  
  
He felt something crawl into bed with him that night. He saw faintly Tawny beside him in the dark. She was wearing a flimsy, see through nightie she had chosen a the store.  
  
He felt at loss of breath. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "I love you."  
  
He smiled slowly, "I love you, too."  
  
She pulled her self closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You said you'd give me anything I wanted, right?"  
  
"Anything and everything."  
  
There was a silence. "I want you."  
  
He kissed her. "I want you, too." He kissed her again. "I hate the space between us. I hate when you're not around. I want to put you in my pocket take you everywhere I go." He kissed her again. "God, I love you."  
  
He told her this over and over again as he kissed her all over her face. He buried his face in her neck. He wished this could last forever.  
  
She her hands through his hair, silent. She pushed her away gently, so their eyes met.  
  
"Thank you. You saved me," she simply said.  
  
He smiled, softly. "You're sweeter than all the chocolate in the world." He took her in his arms, and kissed her.  
  
Chapter 2 later 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I am updating a story for the first time. YAY! Thanks for the review, Irish Gypsy7. You're cool.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Willy Wonka blah blah blah.  
  
Willy smiled as he woke up that morning. Last night was like the two of them speaking to each other with something bigger than words.Something bigger than them.  
  
And, well, it had felt fantastic.  
  
He rolled over and reached for Tawny - and turned to the empty be beside him.  
  
He bolted up right, heart racing. His blood seemed to be going way tofast through his veins.  
  
*Where the hell is she?* he thought.  
  
After he got dressed, he madly raced through town, trying to find her.  
  
He asked everyone about her, but no one seemed to know. Soon, he had been searching for hours.  
  
He resigned himself to a stoop, wanting to give up and cry. She was like something you could never hold onto. She was so afraid to be happy, she tried to feel pain all the time.  
  
She had left by choice. It was like a stab in the heart. Why was he chasing her? If she had gone, it meant she clearly didn't want to be with him. Tears welled in his eyes.  
  
He looked up, just in time to see the drug dealer. He hopped up, the tears and the urge to give up gone.  
  
He grabbed the man by the shoulders, roughly. "Where is she?"  
  
He looked at him in fear. "Look, I didn't do nothing to her -"  
  
Willy shook him. "Where is she?" he demanded.  
  
The drug dealer sighed. "She's in a real bad place, even to me."  
  
"Is this the right address?" Willy thought.  
  
The door was down a set a concrete steps dug into the ground, like it wanted to be hidden.  
  
He sighed and went in.  
  
The moment he stepped inside he heard a blast of deafening techno music. A large group of pale people were dancing around, convulting unhumanly. To themselves, this was a fantastic world of light, color, and pleasure.  
  
But even to Willy, it was grotesque.  
  
He pushed his way through them, till he got to the center of the room. Sitting at a table, a beautiful girl with long dark brown hair and big purple eyes.  
  
She was snorting coke on a mirror. Puncture wounds from needles ran up her arms.  
  
Her eyes were vacant and sad, her features stony. If drugs were supposed to make you feel so good, he wondered, why does she look so dissapointed?  
  
His heart ached at the sight of Tawny. He wanted to take her away from here, and make her better. He wanted to protect forever. But he knew he couldn't protect her from herself.  
  
Just then, she passed out. She fell to the floor. No one seemed to notice this. The apocalypse could occur in the middle of the room and no one would turn a head.  
  
He ran to her and scooped her up, before someone stepped on her.  
  
He looked at her face. "What am I going to do with you?" he wondered out loud. 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. I get one more review every time I update. That's kind of nice.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Willy, would I be publishing here?  
  
Willy snapped his fingers near Tawny's ears. "Stay awake!" he urged.  
  
He didn't know what would happen if she fell asleep, but he had a pretty good idea it wouldn't be a good thing.  
  
"Uh?" she mumbled, eyelids covering half her eyes.  
  
He clutched her hands. "Stay awake," he said, voice and eyes softer.  
  
"Where am I?" she asked.  
  
He leaned back. "Look around."  
  
They were in a diner, the only place close enough that Willy could find. They looked extremely out of place, her, looking like she been sprayed with a fire hose, and him, in a brown top hat and purple jacket.  
  
"Why am I here?" she asked, across from him in the booth.  
  
"You passed out at the party."  
  
"Oh . . . *oh*," she repeated, almost as if remembering it. "I'm sorry I . . . left."  
  
He shrugged. "Well, I didn't have anything better to do than look for you."  
  
She bit down on her lip, and leaned forward. "Are you angry with me?"  
  
He laughed, dryly, as if trying to disguise his anger. It came out in his eyes. "Well, yes," he began, still chuckling. "In fact, I'm furious. I don't know why I even went to look for you."  
  
There was a silence. Tawny opened her mouth to say something, but the waitress came over.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked simply.  
  
"A cheeseburger with the cheese," he began. "Or burger. Or buns."  
  
She looked at him like he was a green alien from another planet. "So, uh, nothing?"  
  
"But water." He looked at Tawny. "Do you want anything?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
He shrugged. "You heard the woman."  
  
The lady trotted off, glad to be away from them.  
  
"Why did you look for me?" Tawny asked after a long silence.  
  
He shrugged again. "I guess I'm in love with you."  
  
"I love you, too -"  
  
"Then why did you leave?" he almost screamed, leaning in. "What am I supposed to do? I can't dump this one in the chocolate river! I can't protect you from yourself! You chose to leave me. God, other than the fact that you're a drug addict, I don't even know anything about you! You slept with me and then left me, and still I went looking for you! I don't know why the hell I keep thinking about you, and I don't even know why I still love you!" He groaned, and muttered, "They say being in love is a wonderful feeling, but why does my head want to explode?!"  
  
He looked up, and saw tears in Tawny's eyes.  
  
All the anger and frustration flowed out of him, to be replaced with regret. Why had he said that?  
  
He got up and sat beside her in the booth. Everyone was staring, but he didn't seem to care.  
  
He held her close. "I'm sorry," he repeated over and over again. He knew this was the way it was going to be. She would relapse, and he would get angry, but would forgive her, no matter how many times she did it.  
  
She swallowed. "It's okay." She used a finger to wipe her nose. "I know this isn't saying much, but parts of that were kind of nice."  
  
He laughed. He put a hand on her cheek. "Let's go home." 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH for reviewing! It's like oxygen to me! By the way, this chapter is a little melodramatic. Bare with me.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Willy Wonka. It's been made clear in the last few chapters  
  
"So, what's your story?" Willy asked Tawny the next day.  
  
They were sitting in the garden of candy, by the chocolate river. She was laying against him, her back against his stomach and his arms wrapped around her middle.  
  
She shifted around, so they were face to face. Her eyes locked onto his. "What's yours?"  
  
His mouth formed a grim line. "You first. I asked first."  
  
She sighed, and stood up, arms folded across her chest. She stared down into the chocolate river. "My - my family was just a bunch of drug addicts like me," she said disdainfully. "My mother died from an overdose when I was young, and my dad -" she said, like she didn't like the taste of it on her tongue - "my dad treated me like . . ." She trailed off.  
  
Willy stood up. "Like you were his slave?" he suggested.  
  
She shook her head, her face giving as much expression as a rock.  
  
"Like a punching bag?"  
  
"Like I was his wife."  
  
"Oh . . . oh." He repeated in realization. "How - how long had he been doing this?"  
  
"Since I was three, at least." She didn't cry. She spoke cooly. She was passive and numb.  
  
She stood still as he took her into his arms. He held her close for a moment, then pushed away, gently, his hands on her elbows. "I have enough money to get away with one murder."  
  
She tried to smile but couldn't. She looked away. "He's dead now. OD'd, like Mom."  
  
He wondered why someone who had so many people in their family die from drugs could've been an addict themselves.  
  
She seemed to know what he was thinking. "I know drugs are bad for you. I was introduced when I was really young, and I'll . . . I'll never go that far," she said frimly.  
  
He nodded, really doubting what she had just said.  
  
She met his eyes. "Now, your story."  
  
He grinned. "Mine kind of pales in comparison to yours. In fact, it's kind of light hearted compared to yours."  
  
She smiled back at him. "Well, tell it. I could use a good laugh."  
  
He started walking down the path, her following. "I don't know who my real parents are. I was in an orphanage -"  
  
"Excuse me, *this* is light hearted?" she interrupted.  
  
He grinned wider. "When I was six I was adopted by an older couple who were unable to have children. They were exceptionally rich. I even went to school in Oxford."  
  
"So where are they know?" Tawny asked, grabbing a piece of candy off a tree.  
  
He shrugged. "At a some summer home in Baden-Baden or Naples. My father retired, and gave me the money to open the factory."  
  
She scowled. "Why did you make such a big deal of not telling me?"  
  
He grinned slyly and kissed her. "It makes me seem more mysterious." 


	5. Chapter 5 the NEW version

Author's note: Sorry last chapter was so cheesy. I have writer's block. I've totally scrapped chapter five. Hey, I get sarcasm.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Wonka.  
  
"I'm not going to rehab!" Tawny screamed.  
  
"You have to! It's the only way to get rid of it," Willy pleaded.  
  
She leaned in closer to him. "No," she said simply.  
  
He sighed, trying to muster up the courage to say it. "Then you can't live here anymore."  
  
She stormed out of the room. "If I go to rehab I won't be living here anyway!"  
  
He ran after her. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. "Please," he begged, his face and voice soft. "For me."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "For you?" She groaned. "Well, we could look at it." She grabbed the pamplet he held out of his hands. "So, what kind of place is it?"  
  
"It's a loving, caring, friendly place," began Mrs. Shaw, the owner of the rehab center. She was a preacher's wife. If she hadn't acted the part she sure looked it, with a skirt down to her knees and a button up white sweater over her blouse. she had graying hair and a smile that looked like it was etched into her face.  
  
They were in a room with about a dozen other drug addicts and family. It was the same with all of them; the washed out, dirty and tired looking child, and the worried and stressed parent.  
  
Tawny shot Willy a look. "I want out of here," she hissed.  
  
Willy could tell from the moment she got here she hated this place. She hated the fake smiles, and she hated the yellow walls and she hated the tortured looking patients. He did, too.  
  
This caught Mrs. Shaw's ears. "Can you tell me a little bit about yourself, miss?"  
  
"What?" Tawny replied.  
  
"Tell us your story," the woman told her. It wasn't a request, it was a command.  
  
"Well, uh . . . I was born, I did drugs, and I'll probably die someday."  
  
Willy smiled slowly. The woman pointed to him. "How do you know her?"  
  
"She's my girlfriend," he said.  
  
She chuckled fakely. "Doesn't she have any family to bring her here?"  
  
Willy's tone didn't change. "No."  
  
"Oh . . . doesn't she have a sister or a roommate?"  
  
*Why is she prying like this?* Willy thought.  
  
"No. She lives with me."  
  
The woman's smile dropped. "So, you're, uh, having intercourse with a woman you're not married to?"  
  
He bit down on his lip and slowly nodded.  
  
For a moment he thought she was going to freak out and attack them. Her eyes were on fire, in a mix of anger and revulsion.  
  
He felt his body tense up. This woman was insane.  
  
Instead, she smiled again and spun around. "Let's begin the tour, shall we?" 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: I've totally redone Chapter 5. If this doesn't make sense, reread chapter 5. This is one of the last few chapters. If I'm going out, I'm going out with style. So, let's start!  
  
Disclaimer: Yes, I own Wonka if that's what you want to think. But I don't.  
  
Willy tossed and turned, alone in bed. Part of him really regreted leaving Tawny at the rehab center, but he knew he had to do it. It was the only way for her to get better. He hoped.  
  
He sighed and got out of bed, knowing he would never be able to sleep. He looked at a picture he had of her on the shelf. He wondered what she was doing, if she couldn't sleep tonight, either.  
  
He thought of Mrs. Shaw. The thought of her put a chill right through him. He shook his head. He thought it was a terrible idea to leave Tawny there. That woman would eat her alive.  
  
He had to go get her back. No, he thought. Let's nonsense. She'll be fine.  
  
He crawled back into bed, but never got to sleep.  
  
Tawny was finally getting to sleep when a blinding light hit her. She covered her face with her hand. "What the -"  
  
"Up and at 'em," she heard Mrs. Shaw say, her voice like sizzling acid.  
  
The other patients were already getting out of bed. Tawny glanced around. "Why are we getting up?"  
  
Mrs. Shaw grinned evilly. "It's time to work!"  
  
Tawny's hands were bleeding from all the washing she had been doing. Her knuckles were cracked open, and her palms were bruised.  
  
When she looked at them she wanted to cry, but she couldn't. That would only satisfy Shaw.  
  
She made them do laundry for hours, without using any electric conviences. Only washboards and hard, sticky soap.  
  
She would inspect a piece of laundry and then make you wash it all over again, most of the time just for the fun of it. You couldn't refuse, either. There were plenty of workers to make sure they "stayed in line."  
  
"Haven't you ever thought about revolting?" she asked a scared looking, malnourished girl next to her.  
  
She put a finger to her lips. "Shh," she shushed. "If she catches you talking, she'll punish you."  
  
"What is this, boot camp?" Tawny wondered, out loud - but quietly - to herself. She looked up, just to see Mrs. Shaw slap a small boy across the face with the back of her hand. He was knocked over, and shoved back up to be slapped again.  
  
Tawny shivered. "Why is she doing that?"  
  
A girl on the otherside of her, more bold than the other, explained. "He's gay, or one of his parents are supposed to be, or something like that."  
  
"Why aren't you working?" she heard above them, suddenly.  
  
She glanced up, to see Mrs. Shaw.  
  
She had a self satisfied look on her face, as if trying to mask it will dissaproval. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You've got to learn to follow the rules. No food for the rest of the day."  
  
She started to walk away.  
  
"But-" Tawny began.  
  
The woman spun around, seeming to be on fire. "No food for everyone else in the room. And no breakfast the next morning, either."  
  
No one groaned, for fear of Mrs. Shaw, but everyone shot Tawny a furious look.  
  
She bit down on her lip. She wanted Willy right now. To hold her and tell her everything was all right. Tears welled in her eyes.  
  
She brushed them away. He was the one who had sent her to this hell, anyway. What did he care about her? 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I'm afraid this chapter may be kind of lame. I don't know. It's a cheap way out of the rehab story arc because I really want to wrap things up. So if you don't like just post a comment and say, "I didn't like it." You know the drill.  
  
Disclaimer: This is getting anoying. I don't own Wonka. That's IT!  
  
"Yes, I'm here to get Tawny," Willy said to the bored looking receptionist.  
  
He couldn't stand it anymore. She was going to get help, but she had to do it somewhere else. Neither of them were happy or healthy this way.  
  
She looked at him blankly. "You can't."  
  
He shook his head. "What do you mean?"  
  
She groaned, as if he was deliberately taking away her time to play solitare on the computer. "Once you sign her in you can't get her back out unless Mrs. Shaw thinks she's recovered." She scoffed. "That almost never happens."  
  
He breathed in. He had to get her out of here.  
  
He came back the next morning and had almost the same conversation.  
  
"Well, then, let me see Mrs. Shaw," he said this time.  
  
The receptionist snorted. "Like that'll help."  
  
Her eyes were on fire when she saw him in her office.  
  
Mrs. Shaw immediatly tried to hide it. She blinked. "What can I do for you, sir?"  
  
"I'd like to get Tawny out of here."  
  
She chuckled coldly. "You just can't do that," she informed him, trying to be light and cheerful. "It's not fair for her to leave without recovering first, it it?  
  
"It's not fair for her to be stuck here with you," he snapped.  
  
Her face grew cold. She sat down in her chair across from him. "Is Wonka your birth name?"  
  
"Uh, no."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
He blushed. "It's William Schmuckler."  
  
"That's Jewish, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And do you go to temple or whatever you people do?"  
  
He didn't like how she had refered to them as "you people". He sighed. "No. What's your point?"  
  
She groaned. "Not only are you Jewish, and non-religious, you are living with a woman you're not married to. You are unclean!"  
  
"And being anti - Semetic makes you machine wash clean?"  
  
She leaned in. "These drug addicts and all you other people are not pure! I need to purify you, to claean you by any means necessary. With some people it's beating them, with some starving them - I'll do anything!"  
  
He tensed up. She like a rabid animal, with a crazy, cold look in her eyes.  
  
"So," he began slowly, "you've abused some patients?"  
  
She laughed maniacally. "SOME? I've done that to ALL of them. And they can't go to till they repent and are clean. Sometimes I even mix drugs in their food when they're about to recover, just so they can go into remission!"  
  
He slowly got up and backed away. "Uh . . . I think that's all I need," he told her, wary.  
  
He left the room and sighed heavily. He was glad to be out of there. He pulled the tape recorder out of his pocket. Yeah, he had gotten all he needed.  
  
___________________________________________________________________  
  
Again, sorry if this is lame. I'm just trying to wrap things up. If you think it's lame, just put a brief message instead of a sarcastic one. I'm in tears . . .  
  
Yeah . . . so, uh, thanks for reading! 


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I haven't read the reviews fot last chapter, but I can assure you that this one is a lot better. I think.  
  
Disclaimer: Willy's not mine, otherwise I wouldn't be publishing here.  
  
Tawny's heart was almost bursting from her chest. If she was going to get out, she was getting out tonight.  
  
She had easily made out of the room where they slept, and was only one room away from freedom.  
  
The problem was, Shaw was talking to a receptionist.  
  
Tawny gulped as she peeked through the door. "How I am I going to get out?" she thought.  
  
She glanced down the hall, and saw the fire alarm. She grinned. Of course!  
  
Slowly, she tip toed over, and pulled it.  
  
It made a loud, shrieking sound, just like the receptionist and Mrs. Shaw after they heard it. She didn't run out in fear like Tawny thought she would, though. She headed toward her direction -  
  
She quickly ducked into a room, and bumped into the bed of a sleeping patient.  
  
Her eyes flew open, big and afraid. She opened her mouth, afraid, but Tawny but her hand over it. "Shh, we're going to get out," she whispered.  
  
She pressed her ear against the door and listened to the tap-tap of Mrs. Shaw's high heels as she passed them.  
  
Tawny sighed with relief, then slowly slipped out of the room.  
  
She ran past the slack jawed receptionist and out into the cold.  
  
It wasn't cold, it was freezing, and it was snowing. She had prepared, layering every piece of clothing and every item she brought with her onto her - including some money she stole from Mrs. Shaw's purse - and yet she was still freezing. But she breathed in, savoring the air. It meant freedom.  
  
"Hey!" she heard Shaw scream.  
  
Her head whipped around to see Shaw, her eyes as much on fire as ever, looking like an angry, ravenous wolf.  
  
Chills ran down Tawny's back. This woman may have been a pure Christian, but she needed an excorcism.  
  
Mrs. Shaw sprang on her just as Tawny began to run, and fell to the grab, her heels breaking from underneath her. She pushed herself up and started to run again, but by that time, Tawny was running like hell, and had jumped over the fence, too far away.  
  
The next morning, Willy came back, playing to blackmail Mrs. Shaw with the tape.  
  
But instead of looking revolted when she saw him again, she smiled sweetly. "What can I help you with, Mr. Wonka?"  
  
"You have to let Tawny out now," he began, excited. "I've got -"  
  
She chuckled lightly, bringing chills to Willy's body and making him sweat.  
  
"I'd give her to you if I knew where she was," she said.  
  
Willy felt like he had been punched in the stomach. "What do you mean?"  
  
"She ran away last night." 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I'm FINALLY updating! Sorry, I had a busy winter break. I'm kind of nervous. I always get nervous when I update.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Willy, but I could if you sold him to me for thirteen dollars.  
  
Willy turned the city inside out looking for Tawny. It was all he could think about. He didn't shave, he didn't sleep, and he barely ever ate.  
  
He totally ignored the factory. He was gone night and day looking for her, and had no time.  
  
He had turned the tape into the police, but it offered no consolation to him that Mrs. Shaw had been dragged off to a mental hospital kicking and screaming. Tawny was still gone.  
  
On the seventh day of searching, he gave up.  
  
He sat at the kitchen table that morning, feeling tired and hungry. No matter how many missing persons posters he put up, he probably would never see her again. And it was all his fault.  
  
He gulped. She was probably face down in a ditch, overdosed from some drug.  
  
An oompa loompa came over. He could tell he was going to try to cheer him up.  
  
"Want a newspaper, sir? Or the new candy we're making? Or something to eat."  
  
He shook his head and looked away. He didn't want any of that. All he wanted was Tawny.  
  
Tawny was about to spend her last dollar. She stood in line at the train station.  
  
She couldn't go back to Willy. She was embarressed she had left. He'd think she'd left because she was weak and addicted. He'd probably send her back, or worse, just give up on her. He probably didn't care about her anymore. Why would he go to all that trouble?  
  
"Next."  
  
She shook herself out of her thoughts and stepped up the clerk. She was young, a little older than Tawny. She stared at her for a second, like she had seen her somewhere.  
  
She ignored it and put her money on counter. "One ticket to Boston."  
  
"Round trip?" asked the clerk, still looking at her strangely.  
  
Tawny tried not to look at her. "One way."  
  
The phone rang at eleven fourty-five, just as Willy was about to get to sleep.  
  
He sat up in bed, groaning, and answered. "Hello?"  
  
"Sorry to bother you so late, sir," the person on the other line said. "But a clerk at the train station saw someone who might be Tawny."  
  
He was at the train station in ten minutes. But it felt like an hour.  
  
"You've found her?" he asked the police officer frantically, his hair wild and disheveled.  
  
The man paused, trying to keep his expression stony. "About that, Mr. Wonka. She bought tickets for a trip to Boston. That train crashed ten minutes ago."  
  
Willy's heart beat slowed as he listened to the officer describe it. "It hit another train, and derailed. Most of the passengers are dead. There's a chance she still might be a live, but that chance is very small. I'm sorry."  
  
"I - I have to go now," he mumbled.  
  
He was going to kill himself. He knew there was no chance Tawny would still be alive.  
  
He had some rope somewhere at home. He could just hang himself.  
  
He walked slowly home, his heart dragging on the ground behind him. He had lost Tawny. He had lost everything.  
  
He rounded the corner to the factory, and saw Tawny sitting on his doorstep.  
  
Joy and shock surged through him. He toward her. She looked up at him, her eyes sad. He slowed down.  
  
He sat beside her.  
  
"I didn't get on the train," she mumbled.  
  
There was a silence.  
  
"I'm sorry," Willy began. Their eyes met. "I love you."  
  
She smiled. "Me, too."  
  
They grinned at each for a moment. He took her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply. 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: This is the end. It was hard to write. First, thank you to everyone who reviewed. It helped me a lot, both encouragement and criticism.  
  
Disclaimer: I only own Tawny and Wednesday.  
  
One year later  
  
Tawny looked up from the magazine she was reading. "What should we name the baby?"  
  
They were in a doctor's office, sitting in grey and blue chairs and waiting for the OB-GYN.  
  
Willy glanced at his wife. "What about Ernest or Lollipop?"  
  
She laughed. "You're joking, right?"  
  
She really couldn't tell.  
  
"I like the name Wednesday," she admitted.  
  
This time he laughed. "Isn't that the daughter in the Adams family?"  
  
She scowled. "Hey, I like it!"  
  
"Wonkas," the middle aged nurse called.  
  
They stood up. "Yes?"  
  
"The doctor will see you now."  
  
"As you know," the bald, goateed, spectacle wearing doctor began, "Tawny had a very difficult pregnancy."  
  
They nodded. She had had bleeding and cramps through the entire ordeal, and now was near the end of eighth month. It was amazing the baby had held on for that long.  
  
"And there is a chance of complications during the birth."  
  
Tawny squeezed Willy's hand. "I know."  
  
"In fact, it wasn't very wise to get pregnant at all, since Tawny has such a fragile medical condition," he sighed. He looked at her. "All that drinking and drugs you did turned your liver into lead."  
  
"But nothing good is to happen, and the baby will be bad, right?" Willy asked hopefully."Oh, strike that, reverse it."  
  
A grim frown settled onto the doctor's face. "As long as everything goes to plan."  
  
She was sick again.  
  
Willy peeked into the bathroom. "Are you all right, sweetie?"  
  
She was sitting on the floor by the toilet. She nodded slowly, trying not to puke. "Yes. I'll be fine." She turned to him, trying to smile. "Now, go to dinner with your parents. I can stay here."  
  
"Are you sure -"  
  
"Just go to the damn dinner!" she screamed, and began retching again.  
  
*Damn!* he thought. He hated the mood swings.  
  
Well, that wasn't the only thing he hated. Not that it wasn't her fault, but this pregnancy had been very difficult and annoying at times. With the constant mood swings, her constant "morning" sickness, and cravings for brocolli and chocolate ice cream in the middle of the night, he barely ever slept.  
  
And he hadn't had sex in what? A month?  
  
*Excuse me, but you're not the one with something growing inside you,* he reminded himself.  
  
br  
  
His parents were glad Tawny wasn't there. They had brought someone for him.  
  
"This is Cassandra," his mother gushed. "We met her in Italy."  
  
He smiled nervously. Cassandra was gorgous. She was blonde, wih long legs and a lean, lanky body - the exact opposite of dark haired, short and curvy Tawny.  
  
"Uh . . . hi," he said nervously.  
  
She shook his hand vigorously. "Hello, Mr. Wonka."  
  
"I . . . I . . . I-"  
  
"I hear that you own a candy shop."  
  
"Chocolate factory," he corrected timidly.  
  
She didn't seem to notice. She looked over to his mother. "You said he was handsome. You were right."  
  
He blushed slightly. "Why don't we go sit down?"  
  
"So," his mother began, after they had ordered their drinks. "Where's Tawny?"  
  
He had to choose his words wisely with his mother. "She's not feeling well."  
  
"Oh," his mother said, trying to keep the smirk off her face and out of her voice.  
  
"Again?" his father asked.  
  
He shrugged. "Well, she is in her eighth month."  
  
"Still," Cassandra said. "That's a little unsupportive, isn't it?"  
  
"Well -"  
  
"If I were your wife, I'd be with you no matter what."  
  
"Well, you're not my wife."  
  
Reluctantly, he walked Cassandra to her door at the end of the evening.  
  
She smiled. "Well goodbye, Mr. Wonka."  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
There was a silence. "Listen," she began. "I know you're not happy with your wife."  
  
"I'm fine," he insisted.  
  
She scoffed. "Well, I'll be in the park tomorrow. If you finally get tired of being ifine/i, meet me."  
  
He was considering it. After a night full of puking, he was thinking about it.  
  
He glanced at Tawny, reading a book on the couch. She was still beautiful to him, a single strand of black hair hanging in her face, her purple eyes glowing.  
  
He went up to her, and held her hands. She looked up from her book. "What is it?"  
  
He went down on one knee. He swallowed. "Before I go, I need to ask you a question. Are you happy?"  
  
She smiled. "Of course! I'm with the man I love, and I'm having his baby. Why wouldn't I be happy?"  
  
He bit down on his lip. "Do you think - do you think it was a good idea when you went to live with me? Do you ever wonder what your life would've been like if you hadn't met me?"  
  
"I try not to think about it. You do remember I was a drug addict? If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead now. You saved my life. It was actually the best thing I ever did."  
  
"One last question. Do you love me? I mean, really, really love me? More than anyone in the world?"  
  
"Yes! Of course. I love you and the baby more than anything."  
  
There was a silence. She leaned in and kissed him. They kissed more deeply and lovingly than they ever had before.  
  
She parted from him. He was flushed and a little breathless.  
  
"Do you know what happened to the girl who got everything she wanted?" she asked. "She lived happily ever after." She laughed. "Now go."  
  
"No, I really shouldn't."  
  
"No, really, you go ahead."  
  
He sighed, and kissed her forehead. He couldn't believe what he was doing, leaving. Something deep inside him told him to stay, but he didn't stop.  
  
At the door, he looked at her for a long time. Then he left.  
  
"So, you've finally joined me?" Cassandra teased.  
  
He sat down next to her in the park.  
  
There was a pregnant silence.  
  
"Can I kiss you?" she suddenly asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can I kiss you?"  
  
He nodded. "I guess -"  
  
She grabbed him and kissed him, cramming her tongue down his throat. She wasn't a terrible kisser. Her lips were warm, and she knew how and when to move.  
  
He thought of the first time he kissed Tawny. He remember the electric shock that went through his body. He remembered that feeling the first time he looked at her.  
  
He pushed Cassandra away. He got up. "Do you know what I felt?"  
  
She grinned, leaning on her arms. "I can imagine."  
  
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"  
  
"What?" she shrilled.  
  
"I mean, nothing compared to Tawny," he leaned toward Cassandra. "You know, when I told you that I was fine with her? I'm not! Fine doesn't begin to cover it. I'm excellent, jubilant, ecstatic! Sometimes we have ups and downs, but I love her more than anything. And she loves me. You don't!" He spun around and started to leave her. "Oh," he added. "Don't ask to kiss anyone. The best kisses are stolen."  
  
He headed back to the factory, feeling better than ever.  
  
He walked in, and was greeted by a frantic oompa loompa. "You have to go to the hospital! She went into labor!"  
  
After a quick five hours of labor, Tawny Wonka died of complications.  
  
By the time her got there, it was too late. He was numb when the doctor told him. He was numb when the doctor brought him to see the baby.  
  
She put the baby girl in his arms. "Here's your daughter, sir."  
  
He looked down and saw Tawny. The same jet black hair, the same face, and the same red lips. She looked exactly like her.  
  
Well, almost exactly. She had pure, honest blue eyes. His eyes.  
  
Tears formed without warning. "Wow. She's a little like both of us."  
  
She reached out and clasped his hand in her small fingers. He burst into tears, both from happiness and sadness. But he hadn't lost Tawny. He was holding her right in his arms.  
  
"Sir, do you have a name?"  
  
He nodded and swallowed. "Yes. Wednesday."  
  
Epilogue  
  
He couldn't raise Wednesday. No matter how much he loved her, he couldn't. He was a broken, torn apart person.  
  
He stood by Tawny's grave. After he gave his daughter up for adoption, he cut everything in half in his office. He had lost the person who completed him. He was half a man.  
  
He became extremely eccentric, almost without a vestige of the person he once was. He was sad a lot of the time, but the old phrase was true - iIt is better to have loved and lost then never to loved at all. /i He still had his memories of Tawny, and nothing could take that away.  
  
Maybe he would find Wednesday again someday, he pondered as he left Tawny's grave. iBut now, let's just focus on Golden Tickets.  
  
THE END  
  
A/N: I *might* write a sequel, in which he finds Wednesday. Maybe. All I need is for one person to say yes! 


End file.
